Cowboys in Peril
by MadalineGrace
Summary: Just a collection of short stories, centering around our favorite boys, in which Solo gets hurt in some way or another. I really want to explore the friendship in this team. I own nothing but the plot I came up with. Enjoy! Feel free to send me any prompts that fit!
1. Be Still Thy Heart

**To start off this little collection, how about one of everyone's favorite scenes?**

Napoleon Solo could say with absolute certainty that he had never been in more pain in his life. His nerves were on fire. He was flying apart. He knew nothing beyond pain, white hot and all-consuming. Then, as abruptly as it began, the blinding agony abated into a lesser, albeit still terrible, ache. As he gasped for each shallow breath, Solo became dimly aware of something warm trickling over his mouth, leaving a vile metallic taste on his tongue. Somewhere in the background, Rudi was droning on about his 'art'. Solo barely heard him. In fact, his entire attention was focused on the guard swaying almost drunkenly outside the window. A moment later, the guard fell and another man stepped into his view. Solo instantly recognized the imposingly tall figure and, when he met his partner's gaze, he wasn't quite able to hide the desperation in his eyes. Illya stared back, his eyes blazing with dangerous light. He raised a single finger to his lips, nodded, then slipped out of sight. Solo let his head sag back into the chair and returned his attention to Rudi. When the man pressed his foot to the pedal again, Solo tensed, preparing for the shock of pain he knew would accompany it, but it never came. He silently thanked God for old wiring. Still, his stomach clenched uncomfortably as Rudi suggested using pliers next. He had seen the pictures in the doctor's sadistic scrapbook and he knew what Rudi could do with just a pair of pliers. He could feel the fear rising in him again, but it died he saw Illya slip into the room and come up behind Rudi. Relief coursed through him and he closed his eyes.

"I never thought I'd say this," Solo said breathlessly, "but I'm actually quite pleased to see you."

"You doing okay, Cowboy?" Illya asked, brow furrowed in concern. Rudi cowered beneath him. Too exhausted to speak again, Solo simply nodded and slumped as much as his restraints would allow and all but passed out. Illya's frown deepened.

"Cowboy?" he asked. His hands began to twitch as he received no reply. Within a minute, the Russian agent had efficiently bound and gagged the little scientist and was rushing to his partner's side.

"You with me?" he asked softly, two fingers pressing gently into the other agent's throat. The pulse the beat against his fingers was not at all reassuring. It was erratic and entirely too fast and Solo's breathing had become worryingly shallow. "Solo?" he tried again. "Can you hear me?" Solo wrinkled his nose slightly, but gave no other indication of awareness. Torn between shaking the man until he answered and carrying him to the nearest hospital, Illya settled on first freeing his partner from the chair. He made quick work of the straps. As he worked, he noticed how pale Solo had become, contrasting sharply with the bright red blood trickling from his nose. Carefully, he used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe away the worst of it. Solo groaned and shifted beneath his touch, his breathing speeding up.

"Easy, Cowboy. You're safe now." Illya soothed. Solo's eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on the face above.

"P-peril?" he asked uncertainly. Illya flashed a rare smile that almost masked the anger in his eyes.

"The one and only." He said drily. "Are you with me now?"

"I…I think so?" Solo replied, attempting to raise himself up on shaky arms.

"Not so fast, Cowboy. I'm not sure you are ready to be doing that just yet." Illya cautioned.

"We c-can't stay here." Solo countered. Illya frowned, knowing that the American was right.

"Go slow. Can't stress your heart anymore." He warned. Slowly, he helped Solo stand on unsteady legs. Once fully upright, Solo swayed and staggered before Illya grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"'m okay." He mumbled in answer to Illya's worried stare. "Just need the room t' stop movin' an' I'll right as rain."

"Somehow, that does not reassure me." Illya gently guided Solo to the wall and leaned him up against it. He waited a few minutes as the American agent gradually regained a fraction of his composure. Although still weak and trembling, Solo looked a good deal better than he had earlier. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off from the wall and stood on his own. Looking up at Illya, he jerked his head toward where Rudi sat.

"What now?"

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In the end, the mission had been a success. They had stopped Victoria, ended a nuclear threat, and even somehow managed to find peace between a Russian KGB agent and an American CIA agent. All in all, things had ended surprisingly well. Except…

There was that persistent flutter in Solo's chest that just wouldn't go away. Thus far, he had just been ignoring it. Earlier, he'd been in the thick of it and that was no time to address something so mundane. Now, they had just gotten the news that they were a team. Everyone was in high spirits and they were all having a nice drink. Illya looked far more relaxed than Solo had ever seen him. Gaby was laughing at their ridiculous new name. He couldn't ruin that. But damn if his body would allow him that. As he sipped from his glass, he surreptitiously leaned against the wall and tried to hide the wave of dizziness that had overtaken him. His heart was beating so fast in his chest that he was sure it was going to burst.

"Cowboy?" Solo glanced up to see both Illy and Gaby staring at him expectantly and he realized that this had not been the first time they'd called his name.

"What?" he asked without any of his usual eloquence. Illya frowned.

"You feeling alright? You've been unusually quiet."

"Is your head bothering you?" Gaby asked, reaching up to gently glide her fingers over the darkening bruise at his temple, a souvenir from Alexander Vinciguerra.

"No…I umm…I'm fine." Solo managed to say, closing his eyes and fighting off another wave of lightheadedness. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing tightly. He opened his eyes to see Illya at his side, placing a hand on his arm. Gaby took the whiskey out of his shaking hand.

"Solo?" Gaby asked, concern filling her words."

"Come, sit down." Illya urged gently. "You are clearly not well." Solo half-heartedly attempted to shake him off.

"Really, I'm okay. I just –" he abruptly broke off as a sharp pain lanced through his chest. Solo felt his knees buckle as his vision whited out.

"Cowboy!" Illya's voice drifted above the roaring in his ears. He felt himself being lowered onto something, but he was too out of it to really understand what was happening.

"What's wrong with him?" Gaby's voice, small and scared, asked.

"Cowboy? Cowboy…Napoleon." At the sound of his name, Solo roused. Blearily, he blinked open his eyes to reveal two very concerned faces hovering over him.

"Napoleon, can you hear us?" Illya asked. He was crouched down next to him, one hand on Solo's cheek.

"I…what? Wha's goin' on?" Solo slurred. Illya and Gaby exchanged a worried glance.

"You collapsed." Gaby explained gently, pushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "Please, tell us what's wrong. Is it your head? I saw you get hit earlier."

"No…I…" Solo tried to explain, but it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

"Slow your breathing, Cowboy." Illya instructed. He placed a hand on Solo's chest and immediately the problem became apparent. He could feel the American's pulse racing beneath his hand. "Your heart? Is that what is wrong?" he asked. Solo nodded weakly. Gaby looked to both of them questioningly.

"What? What is wrong with his heart?" she demanded.

"Parting gift from Uncle Rudi." Illya spat bitterly. Gaby looked horrified at the mention of the man.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"He needs a doctor. I'll get him inside, you call Waverly." Gabby nodded and ran to the phone. Gently, Illya lifted Solo and carried him to the couch.

"Stay with me, Cowboy."

"Not…goin' anywhere." Solo wheezed.

"Shhhh, do not try to talk. Just breathe with me, yes? Slowly. In and out…In and out." Illya coached.

"I c-can't…" Solo gasped as another flash of pain gripped his chest. Black spots danced across his vision.

"Gaby!" Illya called.

"Waverly says he'll have a medic here in ten minutes. Can he last that long?" she replied, hanging up the phone and running to join them. Solo had fallen completely unconscious by that point.

"He has too."

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"Ah, he's awake."

Solo blinked as the world came back into focus. He was lying on a bed in a very white room that smelled overwhelmingly of antiseptic. In his arm, he could feel the pressure of an IV needle. Slowly, he rolled his head to the side to see Illya half-smiling down at him. To his right, Gaby was curled up in a chair, sleeping.

"Peril." He greeted groggily.

"Delayed tachycardial arrhythmia." Illya said without preamble. "Do you know what that is?"

"I'm assuming it's what landed me here." Solo replied.

"It is the unnatural, too-fast beating of the heart following electrocution. In some cases, it is lethal. You, Cowboy, are very lucky." Solo frowned in confusion.

"You'll have to fill in some blanks, here, Peril. I'm not sure I follow." Illya sighed.

"You remember Waverly making us a team, yes?" Solo nodded. "Not long after that, you began acting oddly and you soon collapsed. We brought you to this hospital where you are currently being treated for some of the…unpleasant side effects of your time with Uncle Rudi. The doctors have assured us that you will make a full recovery given time." Illya finished, giving Solo's shoulder a light squeeze. Solo took a deep breath.

"I remember feeling like I couldn't breathe, but not much aside from that."

"I am not surprised. You were not exactly with it. But you are better now?" Illya asked.

"Much. I…thank you. Really, Peril. I-"

"You're welcome, Cowboy." Illya said, cutting him off. "But, let's not make this a habit." Solo smiled.

"I suppose I can do that."

 **There. I hope you enjoyed it! Send me your prompts!**


	2. Finding a Way

**Summary: Solo has been missing for weeks. His team manages to rescue him, but all is not well.**

Illya crept silently through the darkened compound. He had maybe twenty minutes before the lights came back on and he intended to use every single one of them. As he ghosted down the corridor he peered into the rooms lining the hall. Most of them were maintenance, storage, or the like. None of them held any sign of Napoleon Solo.

Illya kept his gun in a white knuckled grip. So far, he had managed to keep them from shaking, but as a result, a vein was pulsing madly in his forehead. It had been three weeks. Three weeks since he and Gabby had burst into Solo's hotel room. The American agent had not met them for their debriefing and all phone calls to his room had gone unanswered. Fearing the worst, Illya kicked in the door. Inside, they had found clear evidence of a struggle. Broken furniture lay strewn around the room and shards of glass glittered on the floor. Most frightening, however, was the blood. Bloody hand prints streaked the walls and crimson drag marks led to the open doors of the balcony. From there…nothing. No sign of his partner. From that moment on, they had begun a furious search for Solo that had thus far spanned six countries. Tonight, they were in Latvia at a small shipping warehouse on the Baltic coast. The warehouse belonged to Aleksandras Zelenko, a wealthy business tycoon who had made his money in the eastern European import/export business. It had taken extensive digging (and not a little coercion) on Waverly's part to discover that Solo had been a part of a mission four years ago that had led to the arrest of Zelenko's brother. That, in turn, led them here. Illya wanted desperately to believe that they would find Solo somewhere in this warehouse. If they did not, he knew that the chances of finding the man, alive or otherwise, were slim to none.

When he at last reached the end of the hall, Illya's heart was in his throat. One room left. He and Gaby had already searched the rest of the building. If Solo wasn't here…

Illya took a deep breath, picked the lock, and eased the door open. When he saw what lay before him, he nearly dropped his gun. In the center of the room, chained to the ceiling, hung Napoleon Solo. Illya barely recognized him. Solo was covered head to toe in blood and bruises. Pale grey skin peeked out from beneath it all. His usually perfect hair flopped lank and limp in his face. Hanging there with his toes barely touching the floor, he looked like a corpse.

"Nyet!" Illya gasped. He ran to Solo. "Cowboy? Cowboy!" he whispered desperately, placing his hands on his partner's cheeks. Solo's skin was ice cold beneath his fingers. Illya fearfully pressed two fingers into Solo's throat. He nearly sagged to the floor in relief when he felt the weak, fluttering beat.

"Слава Богу. Cowboy? Can you hear me?" he asked, lightly slapping Solo's cheeks. Solo shifted slightly and scrunched his nose. "That's it. Open your eyes." Illya encouraged. Solo groaned weakly, but remained otherwise unresponsive. Illya wondered if it had something to do with the track marks on his arm. It was then that Illya noticed fresh blood trickling down Solo's arms. His eyes followed it back to where the chains on Solo's wrists had shredded the skin. Illya immediately set to removing them. After a couple minutes, the chains broke and Solo's dead weight fell onto him. With surprising gentleness, Illya lowered him to the floor. Solo was stirring feebly now, wincing and tossing his head from side to side. He was coughing as well, a deep, painful sound. Illya listened carefully to Solo's breathing and frowned when he heard the distinct wheeze in his partner's chest.

"No…" Solo moaned, his voice barely a hoarse whisper. Illya frowned and put his hand to Solo's chest.

"Easy Cowboy. You're safe now." Illya soothed. Solo's eyes fluttered open slowly.

"P-peril?" His voice trembled. "How are…you here?" he asked breathlessly. "How'd you find me?"

"Shhh, another time. You are safe, that is what matters. We're going to get you out now, okay? Gaby is waiting out back with car."

"Gaby? She's…here?" Solo asked in disbelief. He didn't seem to be tracking very well.

"Of course. She was most insistent. She would very much like to see you. Let's not keep her waiting."

"Oh…I d-don't think…don't know if I can…" Solo trailed off.

"Is not a problem." Illya said softly. "If I help you, do you think you can stand?"

"I…maybe?" Solo replied uncertainly. He shook his head. "Yes…yes, I think I can." Illya smiled.

"Good. You're doing good." He quickly pulled out his radio and notified Gaby of the situation. "Ready?" Solo simply nodded. Illya carefully looped one of Solo's arms around his neck and slowly eased him up. Solo leaned heavily on him, panting for breath.

"Doing okay, Cowboy?"

"'m good, Peril." The familiar banter was comfort to both of them. At Solo's assurance, Illya pulled them toward the door. It was slow going and Illya was basically carrying him, but Solo was conscious and that was a good sign. They didn't run into any guards, most likely because Gaby had set a small fire at one of the loading bays. That would keep them occupied for a bit.

They were nearly out when Solo's legs began to buckle.

"Solo?" Illya asked worriedly. Solo was shivering and gasping for breath.

"I don't…f-feel so well." Solo mumbled, sinking to the ground. Illya glanced over his shoulder. He could hear voices. Without another word, Illya hauled Solo over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Solo was coughing again and shaking harder than ever. Illya ran as fast as he could through the door that led to the empty lot behind the building. Gaby was waiting there, the car already running and the door to the backseat open. Illya briefly marveled at her foresight. As soon as he had pulled Solo and himself into the car, he slammed the door shut.

"Go! Drive!" Gaby was already mashing the pedal down and soon they were barreling down the road toward their extraction point. From there, Waverly had promised quick transportation to an MI6-run hospital in Poland.

"Is he okay?" Gaby asked nervously, looking over her shoulder at the two men in the backseat. Illya shook his head.

"Is not good. He needs a doctor." Solo was trembling violently, his head tossing from side to side.

"What's wrong with him?" Gaby's voice filled with fear as she watched her friend shaking and moaning in the back seat.

"I don't know. They've been injecting him with something I think. I don't know what." Illya pulled Solo up so his that his head rested on his chest. Up close, he realized that Solo was whispering under his breath. Illya frowned. Was that…Italian? He wasn't sure.

" _No! Non lo so. Per favore, non mi...fermo..._ " Solo muttered fervently. Illya held him close to his chest.

"Be still, Cowboy. You're safe. You'll be okay." Illya kept up the litany of soothing words until Solo eventually passed out in his arms.

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Two weeks later, Solo was sitting in a lounge chair at a French safe house, enjoying the breeze rolling off the sea. Despite the mild temperatures, he was shivering slightly. He was still recovering from his time with Zelenko. Solo remembered little of his actual rescue, but he was told that after his team extracted him from the warehouse, he'd been taken to the hospital in Poland. There, he'd spent four days unconscious, his body struggling under the stress of the drugs, his injuries, and a rather nasty infection. Eventually, he'd turned the corner and his condition began to improve. He'd awoken to Gaby and Illya's haggard, yet hopeful faces smiling down at him. After another eight days, Waverly thought it best to move him to a safe house to finish his recovery. Gaby and Illya had, of course, followed him here. "To keep you out of trouble." Illya had said.

In truth, Solo was exhausted and still extremely weak. All his body wanted was to sleep, but, after a few days, Solo began to deny it that. It was in his sleep that he was vulnerable to the nightmares. In those horrific dreams, he relieved every burn, bruise, blow, and snap of bone. Most nights, Solo avoided sleeping until he actually passed out from exhaustion. He knew that he was barely holding it together, and the dreams would only serve to tear him apart at the seams.

So, instead of resting, Solo preferred to sit on the deck and watch the ocean. It was peaceful and the gentle rolling of the waves helped to ground him. Every so often, either Gaby or Illya would bring him something to eat. He had lost too much weight during his captivity and it made him look gaunt. Solo would pick at whatever they brought him, but leave most of it on the plate. They tried to talk to him, but Solo was so lost in his own head that he barely said a word. He never noticed the worried looks they exchanged.

As he sat there, staring off into the horizon, he didn't notice the winds picking up or how the temperature was dropping. It wasn't until Illya came and got him that he realized a light rain had begun to fall.

"Come on, Cowboy. Let's get you inside." Illya said softly. Solo glanced up at him as if he didn't understand why. "It's raining. You should not get chilled." Solo threw one last mournful look at the ocean, then nodded. Illya took his arm and helped him stand. He still had to lean heavily on the Russian in order to make it inside. Gaby was waiting for him. She smiled and took his other arm, leading him slowly toward his bedroom.

"You should get some rest." She said, kissing the top of his head. She frowned at the dark circles that ringed his eyes. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked as she and Illya helped him to get comfortable in bed.

"Fine, thank you." Solo replied quietly. She nodded and turned out his lamp.

"I'll bring you some soup in while, okay?" Solo just closed his eyes.

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Despite his best efforts, sleep soon claimed him. Just as before, the nightmares were waiting. Every minute detail flashed before him. He could feel the pain of each strike as if it were happening all over again. He finally tore his eyes open and sat bolt upright, gasping and heaving for breath. Suddenly, it was all too much. He was suffocating. In desperation, Solo tore off his blankets and pulled himself up on unsteady legs. He stumbled almost drunkenly toward the door. Outside, the light rain had turned into a heavy downpour. Thunder rumbled and lightening crackled out over the ocean. Heedless of the weather, Solo staggered out into the storm. Within seconds, he was soaked to the skin. The sky seemed to reflect the turmoil in his own head. His heart was pounding wildly as he shuffled toward the rocky beach. He reached the edge of the water and fell to his knees. All the fear and pain and hopelessness of those three weeks crashed down on him. He held his head in his hands, trying to block it all out. It was too loud…too bright…too much.

He couldn't take it. He was falling into the water. Surely he'd be torn apart by it all…

"Napoleon!" he barely heard the shout over the crashing of the waves. A moment later strong arms were wrapped around him. Instinctively, he fought back, but his attempts were useless. There was nothing left.

"Shhhhh." A voice whispered. "It is me, bratishka." Illya. He'd recognize that Russian voice anywhere. A second, smaller set of arms pulled him into a tight embrace.

"What the hell were you thinking?" A woman's voice. Gaby. She'd been crying. "We've been looking all over for you!"

"He's freezing."

"We need to get him back inside." Solo felt himself lifted. He had the oddest sensation of floating, but he was too out of it to care. The only thing keeping him from flying apart was the strong arms the held him close. Held him together.

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Illya had been reading in the living room when Gaby burst in.

"He's gone!" Tears streamed down her face. Illya stood.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"I went to bring him his dinner and his bed was empty!" Gaby cried. Illya looked over to where the rain was lashing against the window.

"дерьмо, follow me." Pulling on his rain coat as he ran, Illya sprinted outside. Gaby was right behind him.

"You think he's out here? In this?"

"He's not exactly in the most stable mind right now." Gaby's eyes widened.

"Napoleon!" She called. Suddenly, Illya caught a glimpse of movement at the shoreline.

"Cowboy…" he whispered. "Gaby, over there!"

"Oh my God!" As they ran to him, they watched Solo collapse into the water. Illya slid to his knees next to his partner and pulled him up to his chest. Solo struggled weakly.

"Shh, it is me, bratishka." Illya soothed. Gaby knelt beside them and threw her arms around Solo.

"What the hell were you thinking? We've been looking all over for you!" Gaby scolded without any anger.

"He's freezing." Illya said worriedly.

"We need to get him back inside." Illya quickly gathered Napoleon into his arms and ran back to the house. Solo was shivering hard in his arms.

"You'll be okay, Cowboy." He whispered, knowing that Solo was beyond hearing him. Illya himself was starting to shiver in the cold. The blast of heat that greeted him when he entered the house was definitely welcome.

"Here, lay him on the couch, in front of the fire." Gaby instructed. "I'll get him some new clothes." Illya did as Gaby said. He efficiently stripped Solo of the sopping clothes and together he and Gaby managed to get him into dry ones. After that, they wrapped him in as many blankets as they could find.

"This can't go on." Gaby said, sinking down on the couch next to Illya. "If he continues like this…"

"I know. I've tried to be delicate, but enough is enough." Illya agreed. Together, they waited for Solo to wake up.

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Two hours later, Solo opened his eyes to see Gaby and Illya seated across from him. Judging by the looks on their faces, he knew it couldn't mean anything good.

"Cowboy." Illya said evenly. "Gaby and I have been trying to be gentle, tried to let you work through this your own way. _Clearly_ , your way does not work. So now, we are going to try things _our_ way. This starts with you talking to us." Solo blinked at them, his heart pounding.

"Napoleon, _please_." Gaby begged. "We just got you back. We can't lose you again." She added quietly.

"I…" Solo began. He didn't even know where to start. "I can't." He said finally. Illya fixed him with a look that was equal parts sadness and understanding.

"It feels that way, doesn't it?"Illya asked. "Feels like if you acknowledge what happened that it will swallow you whole, yes?" Solo stared back, wide-eyed and trembling. "I promise you, Cowboy, that the only way that will ever happen is if you hold it in."

"Help us help you." Gaby implored. Solo was breathing hard now.

"W-where do I even start?" he whispered.

"Just start at the beginning and go from there." Illya said gently.

And so he did.

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 _Four Months Later…_

Solo and Illya jumped out of the van. Each man was dressed all in black, a gun secured in a holster at his waist. They stood on a hill overlooking their target's mansion. Illya nudged his partner.

"You ready, Cowboy?" Solo smiled.

"I was born, ready, Peril." Illya grinned and together they jogged down the hill.

 **And thus ends chapter 2. I hope all was to your liking! Be sure to leave me a review and let me know what ya'll are loving, what ya'll are hating, and what you'd like to see next!**


	3. How 'Bout That?

**Summary: Napoleon and a head injury. What more can I say?**

"Oh my God! Is he…? He looks…"

"No. No, I've got a pulse."

"He's barely breathing! Illya, look at him!"

"I know! Gabby, I know."

Sound. The vibration of each word beat mercilessly against his ear drums. He wanted to scream at the pain, but somehow his muddled brain understood the lack of wisdom in that action. _God, what was that sound?_ After a moment, he realized that what he was hearing were voices. Two of them. A man, with something off about his speech, something that thickened his words. And a woman. Her voice was strange too, but not nearly as much.

"We need to get out of here." That was the woman. "Can you lift him?"

"I don't want to move him yet if I don't have to. Head injuries are tricky." The man's voice replied. Solo moaned in protest. He wanted them to just _shut up_.

"Napoleon?" the woman's voice asked tentatively. Suddenly, there were hands on either side of his face.

"Cowboy, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes." Solo moaned again, tossing his head from side to side in agitation. "That's it, come on. Little more." The man's voice instructed gently. Solo winced at the sound, finally fluttering his leaden lids open. The world that waited beyond was far too bright, despite the darkness of the night. A hazy figure of a man leaned over him.

"Nghhh…" Solo murmured incoherently. The man above him smiled at that, but in truth, it was more of a grimace, filled with stress and worry.

"Solo? I need you to look at me. Can you do that?" the man asked slowly. Solo frowned. The task _sounded_ so manageable. Gradually, he dragged his gaze up to meet the man's. "Good. You're doing good, Cowboy. Now, I need you answer some questions. Think you can do that?" The man spoke very slowly, his voice clear. Solo nodded, regretting it instantly as pain shot through his head.

"Okay. What is my name?" the man asked. The answer came slowly, and from the wrong closet in his broken head.

"I-Illya." He slurred.

"Good. Do you remember what year it is?" Solo had to think about that one.

"I…stationed in Paris. Tommy and Jimmy too." Solo mumbled. Illya frowned.

"I think you're confused, Cowboy." He said carefully. Solo let his eyes drift and noticed, for the first time, the woman kneeling beside him.

"Gaby." He whispered. Gaby squeezed his hand, tears running down her cheeks. The confusion was growing now. The pain in his head was increasing, but it throbbed the worst at his temple. Slowly, he brought his hand up to it in a jerky, uncoordinated arc. It felt wet and sticky and his fingers came away bright red. Illya's hand closed over his own and guided it down to his chest.

"Leave that alone, Cowboy."

"What…what h-happened?" he asked, unaware of how slurred and choppy his speech sounded. Gaby and Illya shared a worried glance.

"You got hit in the head. With pipe." Illya explained.

"What?" Solo asked, still totally at a loss.

"We're in London." Gaby explained softly, for which Napoleon was grateful. "Waverly asked us to find and secure a computer disc, remember?"

"No…I…what?" Solo's memory seemed to be one huge blank and the more he tried to remember, the more afraid he became.

"Shhh, it's alright. Everything's okay now. We're going to get you to the car, okay? Here, I'll help you sit up." Illya carefully eased him upright. The world swam sickeningly before him and he had to close his eyes and swallow hard against the rising nausea. After a moment, he blinked back up at his teammates. "You good?" Illya asked. Napoleon made a small affirmative noise. "Okay, Gaby, get on his left and help me lift him. We're going to go nice and slow, yes? Just lean on us." The journey to a standing position was awful and Solo was certain that his head was going to pop. The pain and dizziness and nausea consumed him. He didn't realize they had been moving until Gaby and Illya deposited him in the back of their car.

"Wha'?" he asked, his usual eloquence forgotten.

"It's alright. We're heading back to safehouse now. Waverly will have medics meet us there." Illya explained.

"Oh." Solo could feel his eyes falling shut. He was just so tired…

"In the meantime," Illya said, shaking him gently, "you have to stay awake."

"Nnnnnggggmmmffff…"

"Nuh uh uh. You are not going to slip into happy little coma on my watch."

"…'s your father's watch." Napoleon mumbled softly. Illya smiled.

"Yes, it is, Cowboy. You found it for me, remember? Back in Italy."

"Found it…" Solo repeated. He was fading fast. Gaby stamped down harder on the gas pedal. Illya shook him again.

"Come on, eyes open. You have to stay awake." Illya implored. In the light from the street lamps, he could see just how awful his partner looked. Bright red blood covered half of his pale face. His pallor was nearly grey. And his eyes…the pupils were both blown wide, the right slightly bigger than the left. "Stay awake."

"Can't." Solo said, sagging in his seat.

"Yes, you can." Illya retorted, pulling him onto his chest. "Talk to me."

"'Bout what?"

"Anything."

"Just…wanna sleep."

"I know, but you can't, bratishka. Not yet." The rest of the drive passed in a blur. Illya managed to keep Solo in a state of semi-consciousness for the duration, but he had lost the battle by the time they had reached their destination. Between he and Gaby, they hauled him into the safehouse. Waverly and his team of medics were waiting for them and Solo was immediately laid out on the bed.

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In the end, Solo was lucky. A nasty concussion, to be sure, but no lasting damage. The medic assured them that shock from blood loss had contributed to much of Solo's confusion. Nonetheless, Illya was relieved when Waverly instructed the medic to remain there for a few days to "ensure Agent Solo's complete recovery."

"He'll be alright, Kuryakin." Waverly said softly as he left that night. Illya nodded, but both he and Gaby found themselves nodding off in the chairs beside their teammate's bed.

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"Mmmmffff…What the hell?" Solo grumbled as consciousness, and with it pain, returned. Illya's eyes shot open just in time to see Solo confusedly touching the bandage around his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He said, gently guiding Napoleon's hand away.

"Peril? Mind telling me what's going on here?" Illya seemed to brighten at the use of his nickname.

"What do you remember?" he asked. Solo thought for a moment.

"Not a damn thing since Cairo." Illya's eyebrows furrowed.

"That was five days ago, Cowboy." Solo gaped.

"What?" Illya could see the rising agitation in his partner.

"We've been on a mission here in London since Tuesday. You took a nasty bump to the head. We brought you here. Doctor says you need to rest, but should be fine after a while." Illya summarized. Solo let out a breath.

"Huh…well how 'bout that." Illya laughed, all of stress from the previous night pouring out.

"You Americans and your understatements."

 **And so ends chapter three! A bit short, but it's late and I'm tired. I hope you all enjoyed! Leave me a review and let me know what ya'll are lovin', hatin', and what ya'll wanna see next!**


	4. I'd Do It All Over Again

**Summary: Trapped in a blizzard, the cold has dire consequences for Solo. This prompt was provided by my dear reader, Livin4Jesus. Thank you!**

The ominous crack beneath their feet was deafening in the wintery silence.

"Oh no…" Illya whispered, eyes widening.

"Well that can't be good." Solo said, staring down at his feet. The ice on which they currently stood now had a giant crack running down the middle. Spidery fissures crept outward from the main fracture at an alarming speed. They both froze, trying to equalize their weight. Not far away, they could hear the rapidly approaching sound of their pursuers. Another loud crack sounded and the sheet of ice below them shuddered and tilted.

"Right…RUN!" Solo yelled. He and Illya took off toward snow covered shore twenty yards away. The crack chased them as they slipped and stumbled as fast as they could. Suddenly, Illya lost his balance and went down hard. Solo looked back at him and, without a second thought, hauled him up by the hood of his jacket and shoved him forcefully to shore.

"Illya, go!" The big Russian stumbled, barely on his feet. The low friction of the ice carried him all the way to the water's edge. Once assured of his partner's safety, Solo took a microsecond to analyze his own situation. Saving Illya had cost him precious time and ice mere feet behind him had already shattered, giving way to frigid, black water. Solo tried. He really did, but the ground beneath him disintegrated just two yards shy of shore and he was plunged under the glacial surface. Somewhere above him, he thought he heard Illya shout "Cowboy!"

The shock of the cold was immediately painful and it stole his breath. It felt like a million white-hot knives stabbing him at once. He had enough presence of mind to kick upwards and he burst to the surface, coughing and spluttering.

"Cowboy! Over here! Come on!" Illya shouted. He was leaning out over the edge with his hand outstretched. Solo blinked at him, momentarily confused. Illya seemed to notice this. "Napoleon." He said, slowly and clearly. "Swim over to me. I'll pull you up." Solo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. _Okay_ , he thought to himself. _Just swim to Illya. You can do that. It's not even that far…_

Solo began to paddle over, but his limbs seemed slow to respond and all coordination seemed to have deserted him.

"Just a little farther, Cowboy. You can do this." Illya encouraged. Solo could feel his hair freezing to his scalp. His teeth were chattering so hard that he could actually hear the unnatural porcelain _clack_. He was tiring fast and Illya was looking further and further away each time he looked up. "Keep going!" Illya shouted, having noticed how Solo's strokes had slowed. _Few more feet…almost there…_

Then, a hand closed around his arm and he felt himself being dragged onto something solid. Solo was too out of it to care. He was shivering violently now.

"Solo? Can you hear me?" Illya asked, jamming his fingers into the American's throat. He did not like the way his friend's pulse was racing. Solo made a soft, pained noise in response, but otherwise gave no indication that he had heard. Illya took a deep breath and let his training kick in. He quickly tore off Solo's coat, hat, and gloves and tossed them aside. The garments were already starting to freeze stiff. Illya glanced back as he heard the shouts of men behind them. They had to move.

"Solo, we have to go. Can you stand?" He asked tersely, giving his partner a light shake. Solo looked up at him with hazy eyes.

"Y-y-yeah." He stuttered hoarsely. Illya nodded and grabbed him under the arm.

"Alright, on three. One…two…three." He hoisted Solo up slowly. Solo staggered as a wave of dizziness overtook him and Illya held tight. "You doing okay, Cowboy?" Solo was slow to answer.

"'m g-good-d." His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

"Good. Here, put these on." Illya said quickly, taking off his own hat and gloves. Solo blinked at them for a beat then grabbed them shakily. He tried several times to put them, but his fingers wouldn't obey his commands. He dropped one of the gloves in the snow. Illya frowned, concern evident on his face. He bent down and grabbed the glove.

"Let me help you." He said softly, maneuvering Solo's stiff fingers into the wool. He then secured the hat over Solo's head. "Still with me?" he asked. Solo was still staring at the spot where the glove had fallen. Illya snapped his fingers in front of Solo's face. "Hey, Cowboy!"

"Mmm?" Solo said, shaking his head. Illya didn't like the way the man was swaying. He ducked under Napoleon's arm, taking some of his weight.

"Come on, we need to go." Illya went as fast he could while still pulling Solo, but it was still much slower than he would have liked. Solo was shaking so hard that he looked like he was having a seizure. Illya could see how much effort it took just to put on foot in front of the other. The deepening snow only served so complicate matters. At least the storm would hide their tracks. _If it doesn't kill us first_ , Illya thought bitterly.

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They had been walking for close to an hour now and the sounds of their pursuers had long since faded. In all that time, Solo had yet to say a word. Illya was carrying most of his weight now. He knew that if he didn't get Solo warm soon, that he would be dead within a few hours. His eyes cast around desperately for some form of shelter. Through the blizzard, he could make out the silhouette of the mountain. He remembered reading on the flight to Switzerland that these mountains had hundreds of caves. Illya set his jaw and pushed on with renewed energy.

"You just hold on, Cowboy. I'll get us there." He muttered into Solo's neck.

It was slow going, but he eventually reached the rocky base of the mountain. Within twenty minutes, he found exactly what he was looking for. It was small, but a small cave would hold the heat better. Solo was either unconscious or nearly so, forcing Illya to drag his dead weight inside. Knowing that time was short, Illya quickly pulled out his pack and found the instant fire kit. Soon, he had a nice blaze going. He then took out the long sleeve thermal shirt and sweats Waverly had insisted be put in each of their packs. With that laid out, he moved to Solo. The usually vibrant American was stunningly pale and conspicuously still. Not even a shiver wracked his frame. Memories from his first aid training drifted through his mind and Illya remembered how bad it was when that happened. His hands were shaking now and it had nothing to do with the cold.

Quickly, he stripped Solo of his wet and icy clothes and managed to get him into the extra set. He pulled off his own coat of tucked it around Solo as well.

"Cowboy?" he asked tentatively, gently squeezing his partner's hand. He wanted to shake him by shoulders, but he remembered that any sudden, jarring movement could disrupt Solo's already tedious heart rate. As it was, his pulse had slowed significantly already. "Napoleon, can you hear me?" Illya pleaded. Very carefully, he laid down next to Solo, wrapping his arms around him. _Share body heat if at all possible_ , his brain supplied helpfully. "Come on, Solo. Come on. You can do this." He whispered. Solo's breathing had become so slow and shallow that Illya could scarcely hear it over the howl of the storm outside. He lay there with Solo in his arms for half an hour before a soft noise drew his attention.

"H-huh? Peril? 's goin' on?" Solo mumbled, his words badly slurred. Illya scrambled to sit up.

"Cowboy? You back with me?"

"Illya…" Solo whispered. "What?"

"Shhhh, it's alright." Illya soothed. "You fell through the ice, remember? You're in hypothermic shock and we need to get you warm again."

"Oh…but…already warm." Solo mumbled dazedly. Illya frowned. He dug through his backpack until he found a small cup. He packed it full of snow, then placed it over the fire. If he could at least get some warm fluids into Solo, then maybe he could turn this around.

"No, no you're not."

"S'actually…kinda hot…" Solo murmured, stirring agitatedly. Illya didn't understand what was happening until Solo tried to pull his shirt off.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Hey, leave that on. You need that." Illya said, pulling the shirt back down and tucking the coat around him once more. He knew that sometimes in the later stages of hypothermia, victims would remove their clothing because they actually felt warm.

"But..." Solo protested weakly.

"Please, Napoleon. You're not well and, quite honestly, you're scaring me. Just…lie still, please?" Solo blinked at him.

"Okay." Illya breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Good." He checked on the water in the cup and pulled it away from the fire. "Okay, Cowboy. I need you to drink this." Illya instructed. He gently raised Solo's head up so that he could sip the water. Illya had to hold the cup for him. Solo's fingers were too clumsy and weak. It took some time, but eventually he finished the mug. By that time, Illya was noticing at least a little improvement. It was more that his condition didn't deteriorate any further, but Illya would take what he could get. He just hoped that the long range trackers he had on him were still transmitting. Their radio had been lost somewhere at the bottom of that frozen lake. Illya shivered. Despite the fire, it was still very cold in the cave and he had given up his coat. He glanced back at Solo to see that the man was watching him.

"Illya?" Solo asked, his voice weak and raspy. "What…what happened to me?" Solo didn't seem to remember having already been told that, but Illya explained once more.

"You fell through some ice and you became hypothermic. You're going to be alright, but you need to lie still, okay?"

Solo asked twelve more times before help arrived. In the last few hours before Gaby and one of U.N.C.L.E.'s rescue teams came for them, Solo became progressively more confused. He was extremely weak and it was all Illya could do to keep him conscious. The team found him holding Solo's frigid body close to his own, desperately trying to share some of his own warmth.

After that, things became rather fuzzy for Illya. He was exhausted and freezing. Once inside the helicopter, Gaby bundled him into a thick blanket as the medics began working on Solo. The last thing Illya remembered seeing before slipping into unconsciousness was Napoleon's slack, pale face, his lip tinged a faint blue.

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Napoleon Solo's heart stopped. At a core temperature of ninety-three degrees Fahrenheit, he went into cardiac arrest shortly after the he was loaded onto the chopper. For two minutes, the man's heart did not beat. Then…

"Wait…I've got a pulse!" Gaby released the breath she didn't know she had been holding. She was glad that Illya had not been awake for that. They landed at the small hospital near the ski resort their mission had taken them too. Illya had revived shortly before their arrival and he brushed off any medical treatment. Solo was quickly rushed inside. After several hours of warm saline IVs, heated blankets, and warmed oxygen, Solo was finally declared out of immediate danger. The doctors fretted over his heart, especially given the past trauma it had endured under Uncle Rudi, but it seemed to be holding up well enough.

"Only time will tell." They told an impatient and terrified Illya and Gaby.

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"Mmmmgggmmff. What the…?" Solo mumbled groggily as consciousness returned. "Where am I?"

"Saint Joseph's hospital in Brig." Said a voice, heavily accented with Russian.

"Peril? Why am I…what…why am I so cold?" Solo asked, totally confused as to why he was in a hospital and why said hospital seemed to keep its rooms below freezing. Illya gave him a small, sad smile.

"The doctors said it would take while for you to feel properly warm again. Your body is still adjusting."

"Adjusting from what exactly?"

"Severe hypothermic shock. Do you remember the ski resort and stealing Markov's briefcase?" Solo thought for a moment, then nodded, so Illya continued. "We were chased into the woods. While crossing the lake, the ice broke and you fell through. Remember that?" Vague, fuzzy images came back, but the memories seemed to stop there.

"Sort of. I guess you got me out then?" Illya chuffed out a harsh laugh.

"Barely, Cowboy. I got us holed up in a cave until help came, but you almost didn't last the night."

"Well, it looks like I'm lucky to be alive." Solo rasped weakly. God, why did he feel so tired? "I suppose I have you to thank for that?"

"Hardly." Illya replied bitterly.

"Hardly?"

"The only reason you fell in was because you stopped to help me!" Illya shouted and now, Solo could see the guilt burning in his eyes.

"Hey. I'm okay, Peril. Gimme a week and I'll be back to proving that I am the better the spy." He said with a roguish wink. The effect was slightly diminished by the fact that Solo didn't have the energy for his usual bravado, but it calmed Illya nonetheless.

"It seems the cold water must have messed with your head, Cowboy. I am clearly the better spy." Illya replied fondly. Solo smiled back.

"And Illya?" he said, meeting his partner's eyes. "I'd do it all over again."

 **And there you have it! I hope you've enjoyed! And to my wonderful reader who suggested this prompt, I do hope everything was to your liking!**


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